


Blurry Lines

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M, Read the warnings, Roleplaying for work, Unpleasantness associated with serial killers within
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to lose control sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurry Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rounds_of_kink. The prompt was "In order to catch them, we have to think like them." and the kink "Roleplaying." Which means:
> 
> Warnings: one of the characters is putting himself in the head of a serial killer, so expect unpleasantness from that, including thoughts of murder, violence, non-con, homophobia and a little blood. Nothing actually happens except for the latter.

He picks a bar at random in the list and makes his way over there. Stepping inside is always the hardest part but he is on a mission and he tells himself God would understand. So he goes in and finds himself a corner from where he can watch, unnoticed. It’s not like it really matters who he chooses – they’re all guilty here – but he likes to think it does. After all, he’s offering them a chance at redemption – they just have to earn it. 

He always knows when he finds him, but he reins his elation in. He needs to be careful – witnesses will report that the Other left the bar alone that night.

He follows him home, trailing him with his car, keeping a safe distance – you never know who these people are. At first he had thought to approach them in the parking lot, but he quickly changed his mind – it only made them suspicious. He can’t be seen accosting a man in a parking lot anyway – people might think he’s one of _them_.

No, waiting for them to get home is easier. People tend to relax inside the safety of their own house. And getting them to open the door has never been a problem – he doesn’t look like much, he knows. ‘Unthreatening’ is the word, he thinks. Unassuming. But that’s okay. It usually gets him in when he knocks.

Subduing them has become easy – the first time he wasn’t ready and he panicked, making a mess of things. Now he’s got a gun and people do what they’re told when they have a gun pointed at their head. And when they don’t… well, it only makes the evening shorter – they still get what they deserve.

But the others… Ah, the others! The power rush when he sees the terror in their eyes, when they submit… 

It makes him hard.

He hands them the drink he’s carefully prepared for them. Tells them to drink, and of course they do.

When they feel the drug start to course through their system, some of them struggle. Others just accept it. 

The latter die faster.

This one… This one is a fighter. He knew it the moment he saw him, knew he would be perfect for him. Too bad that he’s a fag and therefore has to die. He can’t let him think he can win here. Only _he_ is in control. The Other will have to submit, repent, sooner or later.

He pushes him back against the wall and slaps him hard across the face, watching with fascination the trickle of blood that makes its way down his chin. He wants to lick it.

So he does.

And it all gets out of hand.

He is panting now, excited, and it isn’t supposed to happen like that. He isn’t supposed to feel that way. He is supposed to be getting rid of the fags, killing them off one by one – it’s his _duty_! And it’s dirtybadwrong but he can’t help himself, rubbing his hard-on against the other man’s thigh.

And suddenly it all becomes clear: it’s all the Other’s fault! He is trying to seduce him, make him a sinner, so that his life will be spared! Oh, but he’ll teach him, yes he will. And the slut will enjoy it.

“Jason.”

Gideon comes back to himself with a start and blinks at Hotch, who meets his gaze steadily. He has the other man pressed against the wall, and while there is no fear in Hotch’s eyes Gideon can feel how tense the man really is.

Then Gideon registers two things. One, he’s got a hand wrapped around Hotch’s throat. And two, he’s still hard.

Feeling oddly detached, he watches as blood makes its way down Hotch’s face from the cut on his lower lip, trying to figure out what’s wrong with this picture.

He licks suddenly dry lips and tastes the sharp metallic tang of blood.

And recoils so violently he almost ends up on the floor.

Christ.

He’s going to be sick.

He barely makes it to the bathroom before he is, dry heaves that make his throat hurt and his eyes water, but at least it gets the taste of Hotch’s blood out of his mouth.

He slumps back against the wall, trying to get himself back under control, and of course Hotch is right there, standing by his side. He’s cleaned himself up, the blood gone from his face, and Gideon can’t quite look at him as he takes the proffered glass of water and then moves to brush his teeth.

When he does, his eyes stray to the cut on Hotch’s lip and then lower, to his throat.

He idly wonders if that’ll bruise.

The part of him that was opened to the unsub’s psyche just minutes ago hopes so. To have the dark shape of his fingers imprinted on Hotch’s pale flesh for the world (Haley) to see –

Gideon shakes his head violently, trying to dislodge the thought. Never before have the lines been so blurred, and he thinks it might have to do with the fact that it’s Hotch. And him. And their complicated relationship. Given the unsub’s chosen victims it was a rookie mistake to attempt this exercise with Aaron and he should have foreseen it. 

Then again, Gideon is glad he didn’t try this with Spencer. Or, come to think of it, Morgan.

He doesn’t realize he’s shivering until Hotch pushes him towards his bed, bundling the covers around him and sitting down next to him.

“Damn it, Jason. _Breathe_!”

He does, and the light-headedness recedes. So he does it again, and again, until he starts to feel calmer.

“Good,” Hotch says, and his hand is on his shoulder, grounding him. Gideon can’t help but stare at it, and he remembers Hotch’s body pressed against his, remembers the feel of it, and –

He also remembers his hand around his friend’s throat, squeezing, and how he would have gotten off on it if Hotch hadn’t brought him back.

The thought makes him feel nauseous again. How can Hotch even stand being so close to him?

Gideon tries to move away, to shake him off, but Hotch can be just as stubborn as he is, and his touch is firm and sure when his hand moves down from Gideon’s shoulder to grasp his half-hard cock. 

Gideon freezes.

“Let it go, Jason,” Aaron whispers in his ear, and Gideon has to bite back a moan as sensations slam into him. He fights it, fights him, but he isn’t doing a very good job because before long he is pushing back into Hotch’s hand. And he shouldn’t, not like that, not when he’s just practically assaulted his friend, not –

“What are you doing?” he gasps.

“You have to ask?” Hotch says, a hint of amusement in his voice, and Gideon finds it hard to form a coherent response.

“Not… worth it,” he pants, because he isn’t, and Hotch goes very still.

“Listen to me,” he growls, his hand still wrapped around Gideon’s cock, squeezing it lightly. “Sometimes, we have to get inside their head. _You_ taught me that, and it’s exactly what you did – your _job_. You’re nothing like him. You’re my friend. Would I be doing this otherwise?”

No, he wouldn’t. That certitude alone anchors him. He is Jason Gideon. FBI Agent, working in the BAU. He isn’t a murderer or a rapist – Hotch would never touch him if he was. 

It’s a relief to let go, to lean back against Hotch. The other man always knows best when he is concerned, always knows what he needs, and no matter how frightening it can be, there are times when Jason is pathetically grateful for it.

Aaron must have felt his body’s surrender, mirroring his mind’s, because his hand starts moving again, and all of a sudden Gideon is close, so close… He needs…

He turns his head to look at Hotch, pleading for something other, something more, and Hotch knows, as he always does. He kisses him, and it’s a mess of lips and tongues and teeth and –

When Gideon comes, it’s with the taste of Aaron’s blood in his mouth and he can’t bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
